Ice
by Laura Schiller
Summary: The Doctor often persuades Seven to try something new. But every now and then, the tables turn.


Ice

By Laura Schiller

Based on: _Star Trek: Voyager_

Copyright: Paramount

"You cannot be serious," said the Doctor, raising his eyebrows as far up as they would go.

Seven beckoned him forward. "Have you ever known me to joke?"

He peered past her through the open holodeck doors. He might have known that when she turned up in Sickbay dressed in a down parka, snow pants, hat and gloves, that there was something strange going on.

He hadn't expected this.

Over her shoulder, he could see the holodeck transformed into a frozen lake surrounded by pines. His heat sensors registered a temperature of minus five degrees Celsius. Dazzling sunshine glinted off the ice and turned the snow-covered trees to silver.

A crowd of crew members were circling it on ice skates: Paris with his arm wrapped around a pregnant Torres' waist, Naomi holding hands with Samantha and Joe Carey, Billy Telfer pushing Tal Celes from behind, Mariah Henley turning pirouettes in the center. Neelix stood on the snowy shore with a snack cart, serving cups of something that steamed.

Ensign Kim, the Doctor supposed, was on the Bridge supervising the night shift. As for Tuvok, who had a desert dweller's low tolerance for cold, he was probably in his quarters.

Chakotay and Captain Janeway were strolling along the far shore, deep in conversation. Janeway saw the open doors and waved from a distance.

The holodeck doors slid shut. The Doctor, to his own bemusement, had stepped through.

"I'm not programmed for this!" he protested.

"Computer, one pair of women's figure skates, size ten," said Seven, sitting down on a nearby bench. A gleaming white pair of skates appeared on her feet in place of her black shoes. "What size do you wear?"

"I – I don't know, I've never … since when do _you_ skate?"

"Since I was a child in Stockholm," said Seven, avoiding his eyes as she bent down to lace the skates.

"Oh … "

Her parents must have taught her, in the years before the voyage of the _Raven._ Later, on _Voyager_ , perhaps she'd picked up the sport again. It would be just like her, to never mention it to anyone because it reminded her of home.

"And since Lieutenant Paris challenged me to a race to prove my superior speed and balance."

"Of course he did." The Doctor rolled his eyes in the direction of his least favorite, and only, medic. "Who won?"

She raised her non-cybernetic eyebrow, as if to say, _Need you ask?_

"Well … " The Doctor cleared his throat unnecessarily. "I'm terribly pleased for you, Seven. Joining in a social activity of your own accord is an excellent sign of the progress you've made."

She tilted her head with what he'd come to recognize as triumph. "Then join me."

Good Lord, but she was beautiful when she did that. As always, it made him nervous, and as always when nervous, he began to bluster.

"Do you have any idea how risky that is, balancing on two tiny slivers of metal? Do you know how many injuries I've had to patch up because of this program?"

"Injuries?" Seven stared pointedly at the mobile emitter on his left sleeve.

"Oh, I know. But … " He fidgeted in place, embarrassment boiling up inside him like a fever; if he were organic, he would most certainly have blushed. "It's _undignified._ "

Seven cracked a tiny smile. If she were anyone else, she would most certainly have laughed. (If he could hear her laugh, just once … )

"Undignified?"

He wondered if she was thinking about the same thing he was – his malfunctioning daydreams. True, there was little point in holding on to dignity for a woman who had seen him like _that._

He pulled his cognitive subroutines up short before they could slide any further down the forbidden road of those daydreams. ( _"That was a platonic gesture. Do not expect me to pose for you … "_ )

Meanwhile Neelix, who had run out of whatever drink he was serving, barreled across the ice with a shrill whoop, making the other skaters scatter in all directions. He crashed into a snowbank. Joe and the Wildmans hurried to help him up.

Dignity was clearly not required here.

"I can always come back some other time," the Doctor suggested hopefully. "After I've downloaded a skating subroutine."

The more he thought of that, the more appealing that idea sounded. If he could copy the moves of an Olympian ice dancing champion, maybe under a full moon, spin Seven around and lift her in the air …

"Doctor." Her commanding voice jolted him out of his daydream. "How many times have you lectured me about open-mindedness and the value of taking risks?"

Her blue eyes shone. He wondered whether anyone on the ship could read her subtle cues as well as he could. He could see amusement in those eyes, with a wealth of friendship below it, like sunlight on the surface of a very deep lake.

He sat down.

"Computer," he ordered, "One pair of men's figure skates. Estimate size based on physical parameters of EMH."

Of course he would skate with her. He did not conceal from himself the fact that he would do anything Seven asked.

"Hoist on my own petard, I see," he grumbled, to hide the fact that every photon in him was tingling with happiness. "I taught you too well."

She stood up, pivoted, and held out both hands to him.

He let her lift him to his feet, hold him steady as he wobbled on those confounded blades, and slowly pull him forward. He listened to her calling out instructions – "Left, right, left … keep your knees bent … move smoothly" – like a Starfleet Academy instructor drilling cadets.

He watched the wind blow pink into her cheeks and water into her eyes, tease strands of hair out from under her red wool hat, and make her scarf flutter behind her.

"Trust me," she said. "I will not let you fall."

 _Too late,_ he thought. _I fell years ago, and I wouldn't stop it if I could._


End file.
